My heart cannot contain the frailty that makes it falter,
nor the solar plexus sustain the force of your glance,
a hollowing without breath between my lungs.
Each gasp of swollen mouth, a wound agape,
cauterized by your kisses, cored by your tongue--
Devoid of both, a calcified shell of skin,
Whispering of wellsprings spent.
Your lust and loathing, in equal measure,
leave me insensible as ether.
The pulse you palpitate beneath your hands
is unequal to the occasion.
The hunger in my belly is
not satiated by what I consume,
But what consumes me.
Love is in the empty, the ache of what is not
within me.